you're like the wind, I'm like the rain
by raggedypond
Summary: These are a few SMILLAN (Matt/Karen) short stories, mostly fluff and angst. There's no connection between the different chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Kazz?" Matt whispers and his voice drowns in the heavy, humid air. Their bodies are tangled on the bed, half covered with dirty worn-out sheets; her leg is wrapped around his waist, her head is resting on his chest. Their breathing is synced and as they lie together in the summer afternoon their eyes meet. The purple velvet curtains are closed but the lazy sun rays poke through the holes and caress their naked bodies. They bathe in sunlight, the features of their faces softened by affection and passion and the rays of the dying sun.

The air is still; it is so quiet that they can hear each other's heartbeat. Karen nuzzles her nose in Matt's neck. He smells of sweat and Matt and she gently places a kiss behind his ear. Their faces are flushed, their breathing is hard. Behind closed doors and curtains, she is free to be his.

"Yes, Matt?" she whispers back, her voice muffled. She's still pressing her lips to his neck, tasting him, drinking him in, memorizing every inch of his body. He softly turns towards her, pressing his forehead to hers and his fingers draw circles all over her back. Her eyes are locked on his, their breaths mingle. They are one.

"I…" he leans forward, his lips brush hers and she melts.

"…love…" he pulls her in, locking his lips on hers in a breathtaking kiss.

"…you," he says, his lips still locked on hers.

Behind closed doors and curtains, their bodies tangled in the afternoon sun, hidden between the sheets, they share a secret. Their lips and bodies and souls are one.

"And I you," Karen answers and she rests her head on his chest once more. She falls asleep in his arms, legs and arms wrapped around him, and the rhythm of his heart is her lullaby.


	2. come on, skinny love

**Come on, skinny love**

_Happy birthday, Vee_

Karen is curled up on the couch, a red blanket wrapped around her and a packet of tissues left on the coffee table nearby. Her hair is falling over her face, sticking to her wet cheeks but she doesn't bother to push it back. Her white fingers are clutching a huge blue mug, a gift from Matt, but the tea in it is already cold; she's completely forgotten about it.

Her eyes are locked on the TV screen; she's been watching Doctor Who for hours and her eyes are swollen from crying. In the spur of the moment she bought on DVD all Matt's episodes. She misses him; she hasn't seen him ever since she came to L.A. and they haven't talked over Skype for months. She misses his stupid face and his laughter and his voice; most of all, she misses the physical contact, his arms around her or his fingers laced through hers. She just misses him more than she can admit she does. And besides, she's too scared to phone him. The prospect of hearing his voice makes her tremble. So she just lives with the pain from his absence.

It was a spontaneous decision, to rewatch all her episodes on the show but she doesn't regret it. Memories flow in her mind, memories of their days on set, of all the interviews and bloopers, and the tears are falling again because she's sure she'll never experience something like this ever again. She feels empty without Matt and before she can stop herself she grabs her phone and dials his number.

"Blimey, Karen!" he says and his voice is sleepy and muffled. "It's two a.m. here."

She's quiet at first, her heart beating so loudly she's sure Matt can hear it through the phone. He said 'Karen', not 'Kaz'. Karen feels betrayed.

"Sorry, I just – "she stops midsentence. She just wanted to hear his voice again, but how can she tell him _this? _"I just watched the new episodes…"

"Kaz, have you been crying?" he suddenly asks and she can tell how worried he is. She imagines him sitting up in bed, fighting with the sheets and trying to figure out what is wrong with her.

"No," she lies. There's no way she'll ever admit it. They're quiet for a while but it's not an awkward silence. She likes listening to his breathing, clearly seeing in her head his chest rising up and down. "You were fairly good, you know. That was some fairly good acting."

He laughs. Hearing his laughter makes her head spin; she feels the butterflies that she shouldn't be feeling and wants to slap herself.

"Was that a compliment, Kaz?" he says and she can almost see his goofy smile.

'_I miss you_,' she wants to hear. But she doesn't. And it breaks her heart.  
'_I miss you_,' she wants to say. But the words just don't want to come out. So she doesn't. And it breaks her heart even more.

"Yeah, it was a compliment, of sorts," she tells him and he laughs once more. Karen feels complete again. If only she could see his face.

"How are you, Matt?" she asks, holding back her tears. She will not cry in front of him.

"Busy. Work and all that… You know how it is, Karen," he answers and she realises just how tired he is; but she doesn't want to let go, she wants to talk to him forever because she won't have the guts to phone again.

"Yeah… Yeah, I know," she says and she feels that she _has to_ hang up but she just can't. "How's Jenna?" Karen asks, putting a lock of hair behind her ear; _Matt used to love doing this_, she remembers.

"Uhm, she's fine. Sleeping, I guess," Matt is fighting back a yawn. Karen has another question, one she'll never be able to ask; _how does kissing her feel?_

"Listen, Kaz, it's good to hear from you but I really need some sleep," he finally says, interrupting the flow of thoughts that's running through Karen's head. They haven't talked in ages, she wants to tell him so many things.

'_Wait, don't go, I miss you_,' she wants to say. '_I called you because I need you, Matt_.'

"Okay," she ends up saying.

He hangs up before she says goodbye. Even though she knows he can't hear her, she whispers "Raggedy man, goodbye" and it really feels like a farewell to her.

She drops the mug on the floor and hugs her pillow. Finally, she's broken down. She starts to sob and the world is spinning around her. Everything is falling apart because her Matt is not hers anymore. And because of how she feels for him, she knows she has to let him go.

Her phone is ringing. It's Matt but she can't pick up. It's been months since their last awkward conversation, since the day she realised whatever they had was over. And now he's calling. Can she bear hearing his voice again without bursting out in tears?

She takes her phone in her lap and stares at the caller ID. 'Stupid face Matt' and a goofy photo of his, his chin pointier than ever, his floppy hair all over the place. She knows why he's calling. She can't believe he remembers.

She's thinking of rejecting his call; she'd better not to talk to him or else she might break down again. But for a second, she's weak and this second is enough for her to accept the call. She presses the phone to her ear and looks out of the window; even though it's dark outside, she can see it's pouring with rain. The weather is no less depressing than her thoughts are.

"Oh well, you picked up," he says. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me."

"Don't talk rubbish," she whispers because she fears she might start crying. She closes her eyes and just like all the times they've talked on the phone, she tries to imagine him. He's lying in his bed, one arm thrown over his face, his legs crossed. She fights a sigh back. She cannot sigh, not now.

"You remember, don't you?" he asks and she hears the fear in his voice. Of course she remembers. How could she ever forget? How could she ever forget the warmth of his body, his scent, his presence? _His taste._

"Happy anniversary, Kaz," he whispers and his voice is hoarse, and she wants to cry.

She remembers that day. His lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth. The taste of alcohol and take-away Thai and of Matt. His hands on her hips, on her back, on her neck. A drunken moment of pure happiness just before she left. A moment of shared secrets, a moment they both swore they would never forget.

She can't believe a whole year's gone by since their first (and only) kiss.

"Happy anniversary," she whispers back and this time she can feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She wants to kiss him again so bad.

"Matt, isn't it too late for you to call me?" she asks and she doesn't mean the time zones. She guess he knows exactly what she wants to say and she's surprised by his answer.

"It's late back home in London."

"What?!"

"Kaz, would you please open the door," he finally says. "I'm soaked to the skin."

She gasps and jumps out of bed; her heart skips a beat. Is this really happening? She grabs a T-shirt, which, she too late realises, belongs to Matt, and a pair of shorts and gets dressed. Her hair is wet and her makeup smeared – she's just had shower. But she doesn't care how she looks. She knows he won't care either, so she runs to the door and opens it, and there he is. Floppy hair and weird chin and goofy smile, water dripping from him. She feels a loss for words. She wants to tell him so many things, she wants to ask him so many things. She doesn't know what to say, she doesn't know what to do, so she just stares.

He stares back.

"Kaz," he says.

And suddenly she's kissing him. All the time that's passed, the unspoken words, the pain, the awkward silence disappear. It's just the two of them, all arms and bodies tangled and lips pressed. The distance between them is gone; there's no need of saying "I've missed you": the kiss says it all.

He rests his hands on her small back and looks into her eyes. Her heart melts and she is, for the first time in such a long time, really, truly happy.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, afraid to hear the answer.

"I'm here to make it up to you for a mistake I made a very long time ago."

"What-"

"I never should've let you leave in the first place, Kaz," he takes her face in his hands and locks his eyes on hers. "I thought you hated me, I thought you deserved a chance to live your life without me, because I was the coward who let you go. But I realised that I cannot. I let you be happy without me but I wasn't happy without you, Kaz. Give me one more chance, please."

She doesn't answer. She just grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him hard.

"I love you, stupid face," she whispers.

"Always have, always will," he says, and he kisses her back.

They're lying between the sheets. She nuzzles her nose in the curve of his neck and closes her eyes. She can't tell where he ends and she begins and it's the best feeling ever. His body is radiating heat beneath her and doesn't want to let him go. Not ever.

"Do you want to stay for the night?" she asks because the thought of being alone in her bed, without him scares her. She wants his hands and his lips and his heart, all of him, here, next to her, until the end of time itself.

"Oh, Kaz," he smiles and pushes a lock of hair off her forehead. He leans forward and presses his lips to hers, and it feels like she's dreaming. "I want to stay forever."


	3. your love, it makes me come alive

Matt was standing at the airport, excitement written all over his face. He was springing on his tiptoes, biting his lip and looking around, waiting for Karen. At last – after all these months, he was going to see her. Naturally, he felt a bit worried since she had long ago stopped texting him and calling, and he felt confused by the rather stiff and business-like message he had received: _Coming home on July 15__th__, see you around., _but that was Kaz, after all, and he knew that there must be some sort of reasonable explanation.  
Another thing worried him, too. He had changed a lot, with the floppy hair that she loved so much gone and all that and didn't know how she would take it. But he wanted to hold her in his arms again, to run his fingers through her soft hair, to hug her and spin her around and to make her giggle; and the prospect of this happening so very soon made him forget all his worries.  
As her plane landed, he raised the sign he had made for her ("My beautiful Kaz", it read) and waved it in the air. All he could feel was butterflies in his stomach. Jumping up and down and waving the sign, he finally attracted Karen's attention. His heart stopped for a moment.  
She approached him, her brow furrowed, something that resembled annoyance written on her face but as soon as she was standing a few feet away from him, a smile stretched her lips. He had expected her to throw herself in his arms; when she didn't do it, he ran the distance between them and held her tightly, rocking her back and forth, breathing her scent in. Stiff and cold, she didn't return his hug but he pretended not to notice. He held her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away so that he could look at her.  
"Blimey, Kaz!" he exclaimed as his adoring eyes had watched her from head to heels. "You've changed! "  
Her skin was caramel tanned, and she was much skinnier than she had been the last time he saw her. She had cut her hair in a bob and she had a fringe and a few colourful streaks. She was dressed in tight leather pants and a white see-through top and strapped black high-heeled shoes. There was much more makeup on her face than Matt had ever seen her wear. He gasped.  
"Yeah, Matt," she said in a slightly Americanized accent, giving him a weird look. "You've changed too. What's with the hair?"  
There was, he could tell, something terribly wrong. She was so cold. Distant. He laughed it off.  
"Well, work, you kno-"  
"What are you doing here, Matt?" she snapped; he looked hurt but she didn't seem to care a bit. "I … You needn't have come. I could've taken a cab-"  
"Kaz, I'm here," a huge goofy smile was shining on his face."I'll drive you home and then we'll have fun – you know, like in the good old days?"  
Angrily, she grabbed her suitcase and followed him to his car. As she glared at him he couldn't help thinking what he'd done to deserve this attitude.  
"Matt," she finally said. Her eyes were not on his though; she was looking through the window, avoiding Matt's face."Could you please stop calling me "Kaz"? It's childish."  
Her words cut him deep; it hurt even more than the coldness in her voice and the stiff half-hug she'd given him. On the drive to her apartment, she was quiet. Extremely upset by her attitude, Matt tried to start a conversation.  
"I like the tan, Karen," he began tentatively. "And the hair. Suits you."  
Karen turned around with a grim expression on her pretty face.  
"Thanks."  
There was something harsh in her voice. Silently, Matt wondered who this woman was and what she'd done to his Kaz. He pulled in in front of the building she used to live in and helped her get her suitcase out of the trunk.  
"Karen?" he said seconds before she closed the door of the building leaving him outside.  
"Oh, yeah, thank you for the ride," she shrugged.  
Matt couldn't believe his ears; holding back the tears, he gave her a hopeful look.  
'Won't we hang out? The two of us? Please."  
She let out an exasperated sigh before nodding stiffly. He grinned.  
"I'm tired now. I want to sleep. Tonight?"  
But there was something in her tone that suggested how annoyed and unwilling she was. Pursing his lips, Matt shrugged. Dark thoughts were filling his head. He couldn't really express how upset he actually was.  
"Okay," he finally said. "There's this bar, a few minutes away from my place. We've been there before?"  
Her pretty brow furrowed as she tried to remember.  
"Yeah. See you there nine thirty?"  
And before he could say a thing, she slammed the door in his face, leaving him heartbroken and hopeless.  
*

A short black lace strapless dress that barely reached her mid-thighs. High-heeled shoes. Shockingly red lipstick. As she entered the bar, Matt could hardly believe his eyes. And even though this wasn't his Karen, he had to admit that she was smoking hot.  
With an elegance that was unknown to him, she slid into the seat next to him and crossed her legs. All he could say was a "Wow!". She beamed at him and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. It felt a little bit awkward; Matt coughed, then tried to look everywhere but at Karen as he couldn't tame the wild butterflies in his stomach.  
"Wine?" he asked. "Our favourite?"  
She gave him a puzzled look.  
"Uhm, no, thanks. I'll have a scotch. No ice."  
He jumped out of his seat and walked to the bar, pressing his fingers to his temples. It was getting worse; it was as though he were talking to a stranger. He couldn't believe that someone could change so much in just a few months. When he returned to their table, he was met by yet another surprise.  
Karen was pulling out of her purse a pack of cigarettes. Matt frowned but said nothing. She took a cigarette out of the pack, pushed it between her dangerously led lips and lit it. After she'd inhaled on it and she had blown the smoke away, she smiled apologetically.  
"Do you mind?" she asked. Matt shrugged; in fact, he minded. He couldn't bear watching his Kaz poison herself. But he pretended not to care.  
"Sorry," she smiled again. "Nasty habit."  
As the night dragged on, Karen kept on inhaling on her cigarettes; he was starting to get annoyed.  
"So, you like it in L.A.?"  
But before she could answer, her phone beeped. She took it out of her purse, stared at the display and then giggled. She wrote something and then looked up at Matt. She drank up her third glass of scotch and was about to give him an answer when she received another text. Laughing like a schoolgirl, she replied to whoever was texting her and pulled yet another cigarette out of her pack.  
Matt was horrified. He couldn't recognize this woman.  
"What were you saying?" she asked him. "Sorry, just-"  
"No, no, it's all right," he brushed it off as though nothing had happened. In truth, it was like she was stabbing him right in the heart. "I just asked whether you liked it in L.A."  
Her phone beeped once again and after having uttered a soundless 'sorry', she started rapidly texting to someone. Matt reacted to this by drinking even more wine than he was used to. Eventually, he turned t scotch as well. Karen just wouldn't let her phone down. She chain-smoked and drank and texted and from time to time apologized to Matt. He felt too hurt to even accept her apologies.  
In the end, she put the phone back in her purse.  
"I am terribly sorry, I'll make it up to you," she smiled half-sadly and sipped the golden liquid in her glass. "Uhm, yes, I love it in L.A., I've got tons of friends and all that."  
Matt couldn't even fake a smile.  
"I see that," he grunted. "Who were you talking to?"  
Karen's face coloured a dark shade of scarlet. She finished her cigarette and took a long time putting it out before she finally answered.  
"Jake."  
At the same time, her leg slipped between Matt's and a playful smile curled her lips.  
"Is he your…" he was too distracted by her leg to be able to speak. "uhm, you boyfriend?"  
Karen laughed loudly. Then she played with the pack of cigarettes for a while, like she was wondering whether to light another one. She decided against it and leaned back. Matt's heart was beating fast. He had loved Karen for a long time; he had hoped that tonight he would be able to tell her but she was acting so weirdly, sending him mixed signals and he really didn't know what to do.  
"No," she finally said. "Not my boyfriend."  
After that, she started a light-hearted chat. Matt was more than confused.  
"I've changed, Matt," she suddenly said and she leaned forward.  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. I am not afraid to say what I want and I am not what afraid to get it."  
Matt gasped ever so slightly as she licked her lips.  
"And what do you want?"  
"You."  
Her lips were on his, her hand up sliding up his leg. Her tongue moved against his and he moaned as she bit his lip. He had dreamt for this for so long that he could hardly believe it was actually happening. Beneath the cigarettes and the scotch, she tasted sweetly, sin-like, and he immediately knew that he wanted her. Badly.  
She smiled and kissed him once again, her lips roughly pressing against his, her hand now moving up his inner thigh. She wanted him too. Badly.  
"My place," he muffled as she went on kissing him passionately. He was confused. He didn't know what was going on. But Karen wanted him and he wasn't going to say 'no' to that.  
As soon as they'd got to his apartment and closed the door behind them, she pushed him against a wall and her lips went down his neck. Matt groaned as her fingers started undoing his shirt. He thought that this was so very wrong but she tasted sweetly and he was tipsy and he loved her and maybe this was the only way he could have her, so he found himself kissing her back.  
She seemed to remember where his bedroom was; she pushed him on the bed, took her dress off and sat on top of him, a crooked smile on her face. She leaned forward and covered his face and chest with kisses. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer.  
What happened between them after that was a secret that the walls and sheets swore never to tell.

Sunrays poked through the curtains, lightly caressing Matt's closed eyes and made him shift uneasily. He turned around and stretched his hand so that he could pull Kaz in his embrace but she wasn't there. Yawning, he sleepily opened his eyes, a silly grin curling his lips. Memories of last night crept into his mind and his heart beat faster, butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He remembered Karen's sweet body wrapped around his, her hands and lips all over him, her breath in his ear and he stretched, moaning. Their clothes were all over the floor; he grinned. He couldn't have hoped for a better ending to their story.  
As her clothes were still here, he assumed she'd gone to take a shower, so he just lay there, propped on his elbow waiting for her. A few minutes later, she came back, water dripping from her ginger hair and her caramel body. As she walked across the room, she bathed in sunlight and Matt felt this shortness of breath he always associated with her. The effect she had on him.

"You're so, so beautiful that it almost hurts watching you," he whispered. She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly lifted her head. A frown was stamped on her face but Matt pretended not to notice.

"I don't think you-"  
"I've been waiting for so long, Kaz," he interrupted her. "I love you, I love you, I love love love you-"  
An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed, as far as possible from Matt.  
"You got me wrong, Matt."  
Of all things, this he had not expected to hear. The smile on his face slowly melted away. He was confused, hurt. What did she mean? What?  
"Okay, we'll talk about this over breakfast," he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. "I make mean pancakes… but you know that, you love my panca-"  
"Matt, please stop. You're making it worse. You're only going to suffer more. Stop it."  
She pressed her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she wore a pained expression. Whatever she was about to say, Matt was sure he wouldn't like it.  
"I've changed Matt. I've moved on," she reached out for his hand and squeezed it. "I have a new life, new friends and, quite honestly, I love it."  
He tried to say something, but she wouldn't let him.  
"I'm not the same person. And I appreciate the fact that you love me, but I don't."  
"Kaz-"  
"Don't call me Kaz," she snapped. "I loved you, I swear I did, but… I've moved on. So don't. Don't hurt yourself anymore."  
"Kaz-"  
"Cut it out, Matt. Last night was great. Really. But it was just sex, okay? A booty call. One night. That's it."  
"Since when do you do one-nighters?"

"I do now. I gave up on you a long time ago, so stop hurting yourself. I gotta go."

She bolted up on her feet, gathered up her underwear and dress from the floor and, ignoring Matt's protests, she got dressed and ran out of the flat. He could swear that he'd heard sobs but thought better of it and decided that this new Karen wouldn't cry over something so insignificant.  
He wanted to cry but realized he couldn't. He felt… empty. Robot-like, he made the bed, went to the kitchen and made himself breakfast. With an odd numbness, he ate, then got dressed and went out on the balcony. He rested his head on his hands, sighing. Nothing could feel the barrenness that was now his soul. Karen's words rang in his head loud and clear. Stop hurting yourself. He once again remembered her heavenly taste, her swift, sweaty body, her divine scent, her sunlit curves. He had loved her for so long, he had craved her, and now once he'd had her, he realized she could, and would, never be his.  
He felt tears blinding him. He had, for years, lived in this dream that he and Kaz would end up together; he had believed that she belonged to him. But she had come, she had made love to him and she had popped his bubble. She had left him drowning in his own pain. He miserably looked down, and went back inside.  
His ringing phone brought him back to reality. Life went on. Not for him, but for others, it did. Jenna was calling. Stephen had sent her the script for the Christmas special and she wanted the two of them to read it through. He agreed to meet her in a café.

She was sitting there, talking on the phone with Richard, who was in Iceland, filming. When she saw Matt approaching, she hung up and waved at him. In a corpse-like manner, he sat in a chair beside her and gave her an absentminded hug.  
"Oooh, you stink of a woman," Jenna teased him, "and you have lipstick on the collar of your shirt. Someone's got laid last night."  
He shrugged it off. He didn't feel like talking about it. But after he'd repeated the same line for the third time, Jenna put the script down and gave him a weird look.  
"What is wrong with you?"  
So he told her.

Karen was sitting in an armchair, smoking her fifth cigarette. Nervously, desperately, she inhaled on the Marlboro and blew away the smoke. She needed to drown herself in nicotine and alcohol. So she'd bought some vodka and she'd locked herself in her room. And she'd cried.  
She wanted Matt as far away from her as possible. She had hoped for so long and he'd never shown her any signs of affection. She'd thought he loved her as a friend. So she had moved on. She had turned to cigarettes and alcohol and sex to help her forget Matt. And when she'd finally succeeded, there he was, declaring his love for her, making love to her, ruining the new life she'd created for herself.  
Her phone rang. Jacob. Fucking Jacob. She'd thought he could substitute Matt. But he was dumb and shallow and even though he was perfect for the new Karen, she wasn't happy. She turned the sound off, and let him call her. She didn't feel like talking to him. Half-drunk, she grabbed the bottle and drank up. All the memories, the emotions, she wanted them gone.  
Fuck! She had only wanted to have sex with a man she found attractive. Now she was in the middle of an existential crisis, questioning her whole life. She should've known how dangerous it was to get close to Matt. After all the effort she'd put into getting over him… And now this?  
She was upset, angry and confused; she got waves of missing him and hating him and wanting him. She just wanted him out of her life because he was so dangerous… She had been strong, and just look at her, at what he'd done to her with his kisses and his love.  
In a moment of unbearable pain, she threw the bottle at the wall and watched it as it exploded into millions of little pieces. Just like her heart.  
She had run away to the other end of the world, just to get over him. But she had kept on talking to him; because he was a part of her that she couldn't let go. The first few months she'd cried herself to sleep because he didn't love her and she couldn't get over him. Then she'd stopped talking to him. She'd tried to distance herself. She'd sought the comfort of nicotine and other men. She'd tried to change every part of her so that she could change the part that was Matt, too.  
And all it took was his soft lips to bring her back again.  
*

The doorbell was ringing. Matt groaned and got up, then traipsed to the door. He wasn't in the mood for seeing other people. For almost a week, he'd locked himself in, feeling sorry for himself.  
When he opened, he saw the last person he'd expected to see: Karen.  
"What-"  
"You weren't picking up your phone, nor answering my messages and I just needed to see you."  
"Karen, what-"  
"Shut up and listen to me, stupid face. I – I lied. I've never stopped loving you. I was a bitch and I'm sorry and. I love you, Matt. Maybe this won't work and maybe we weren't meant to be. But I thought about it. And maybe we're all supposed to have only one big great love in a lifetime. And if this is true, I want you to be mine. Twenty years from now, I don't want you to be the one that got away. I want you to be the man who says "Kaz, you can't let our daughter go out with this boy." Or "Kaz, I will not argue with or son, so please tell him to turn the volume down." I want you to be the man who sits next to me by the fireplace drinking our favourite wine. I tried to stay away from you. I hurt you. And I am sorry. And I just hope that you can forgive me. I love you, Matt Dawg."  
Without saying a word, he grabbed her by the waist, pulled her closer and locked his lips on hers.  
"I love you too, Karen."  
"Call me Kaz."


	4. but there's so much wrong

"Okay, you shouldn't have," Matt grinned. Karen was standing at the doorstep, water dripping from her, a wide smile stretching her lips. Even though it was pouring with rain, she had come to see him; if he had known what she would do, he wouldn't have texted her that he was feeling a bit down.

"Of course I should've," she punched him in the chest. "Stupidface."

He let her in his flat, a bit shabby and very messy, but a place which he loved too much to say goodbye to. She left a wet trail on the carpet but that only made him smile. That was his Kaz, after all.

"Also", she said, and almost disappeared in her huge purse, "I brought you something."

The aforementioned purse was a terribly enormous thing that contained probably half of Karen's possessions, so Matt wasn't quite sure what he expected her to take out. Taking him by total surprise, she pulled out a six pack and put it on the table.

"Your favourite," was all she said.

Like in the good old times, when she was still a companion and he was still the Doctor. On rainy nights they would lock themselves up in his or her flat, drink beer and watch shitty telly, and they would end up half-drunk, lying on the floor, holding hands and spilling their guts. Of course, neither of them quite got to telling the one thing that mattered. They were not that drunk.

Ten minutes later, Kaz had changed into dry clothes: an old T-shirt of Matt's and a pair of shorts he had never worn but he had bought just for the sake of owning a pair of shorts. She sat on the couch cross-legged and Matt rested his head on her shoulder. He had missed this, and he had missed it more than he had ever realised.

"I'm sad, Kaz," he finally heard himself saying.

"Of course you're sad, silly," she pulled him in for a hug, tightly wrapping her arms around him and holding him. "You loved the job."

"Yeah," he shrugged. He loved being in her arms. She smelled of Karen and of rain, and he wanted so desperately to freeze this moment – her wet hair pressed to his cheek, her bony arms squeezing him, her breath on his neck – and to keep it, forever and ever, to hold it and never let go of it. She made him feel like this all the time, like she was the safest place he could ever hope to have.

"No more chick flicks, okay?" she whispered in his ear, and poked him in the ribs, ruining the moment but not really. He made a face, earning another poke, and handed her a beer. She drank from the bottle, like she always did, and laughed at his jokes, and held his hand. And, after her second beer, she leaned on him and stole the remote controller from him. It was just like before, the two of them, and he wished that it would be like this forever.

Kaz was randomly flicking through the channels, chanting "Booooring!" at everything she saw; she was cuddled in Matt, her legs entangled with his, and he was playing with her hair, and it was just as perfect as any on them could hope it would be.

Mat was holding her, caressing her skin and wondering at how perfectly comfortable with each other they were. Out of the blue, she jumped up.

"I wanna dance."

"Don't be silly."

"Matt, I wanna dance."

"Next time we'll go clubbing and you'll-"

"No, I wanna dance NOOOOOW."

He rolled his eyes, pulled his laptop and rummaged through his playlist. She was standing in front of him, her arms crossed and he couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous she looked.

"Come on, we'll dance," he sighed, and pressed 'play'.

He stood up and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. She hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder as the song started playing. Neither of them was much of a good dancer, so basically all they did was spin around the room clumsily, tripping over stuff and stepping on each other's feet.

Halfway through the song, he leaned in and started singing in her ear.

"Make love to me forever," his breath tickled her, yet she didn't complain.

"You know, the lyrics are so hard to memorise," she giggled after a few seconds.

"Shut up, that's the only song I know by heart."

"Yeah, I wonder why – You're not much of a singer."

"Oh, shut up, Kaz, I love you."

She looked up and his lips were on hers, and in this moment, she realised she'd never been happier.


	5. if you fly away tonight

She doesn't know what's happened; she doesn't want to know. All that matters is that Matt – her Matt – is lying in this hospital bed, unconscious, tied to the damned beeping machine that's keeping him alive and that she can't help him.

It's three in the morning; it's been hours since they called her from the hospital to tell her her Matt's been in an accident. She has been sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair by the bed ever since. She occasionally leans over him, pushing sweat locks of his hair off his forehead or just gently caressing his face, or kissing his forehead.

After some time she gets out of the stupid chair and lies down next to Matt, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat is unsteady; he tosses and turns in his unconsciousness and he's paler than ever. But as she presses her warm body to his, as she wraps her arms around him, he settles down. She dozes off eventually, to the sound of the beeping machine that she now accepts as an affirmation that Matt is still alive.

When she wakes up a few hours later, the early morning sun is fighting its way through the curtains. It's caressing her Matt's white face, softening his acute features, especially that ridiculous chin of his. A small smile curves Karen's lips and she presses a kiss to his cheek. He's still asleep or unconscious; she can't really tell the difference but all that matters to her is that the machine is still beeping; it's an annoying sound and it reminds her of the danger that hangs over her Matt. But it's a relief to know that his heart is still beating.

Karen doesn't want to leave him alone but a nurse comes in and politely asks her to leave for a while. So she buys a cup of coffee - it's too strong and it has no sugar in it – and she sits on another plastic chair, waiting. It's all she does, isn't it. Waiting.

Her cold fingers are wrapped around the plastic cup, squeezing it absentmindedly. Her thoughts are back with Matt and as she sips the disgusting watery coffee, all she can think is that she can't afford to lose him. All the moments they've spent together run through her mind; she remembers the warmth of his smile, his fingers laced through hers, his arms wrapped around her. His nose nuzzled in her neck. She sighs and pain cuts through her.

When the nurse calls her back in, Karen leaves the cup on the white nightstand – as white and sterile as everything else in this hospital – and grabs Matt's bony hand. It's pale but still warm and she rubs the back of his palm with her thumbs, she carefully draws patterns or just squeezes his hand, and she just can't let go.

She thinks about how much she loves him, and as she pushes a red lock of hair behind her ear, she feels the tears streaming down her face. They roll down her cheeks and fall on the white sheets and on Matt's hand but he's not waking up. Karen hugs him tightly and nuzzles her nose in his hair, drinking in his scent, holding him tightly. She starts sobbing; she just can't help it. She never got the chance to tell him how she feels. Now she might never be able to do it.

"Is he your husband?" someone asks. Karen turns around and sees a little girl, short and skinny, her brown hair pulled up in pigtails. She is holding the leg of a stuffed rabbit and her eyes are teary.

"Yes," Karen says, lying on purpose. She want to be his wife, she wants to be his Kazz, forever and ever and ever.

"Why are you crying?" the little girl asks and nibs at the leg of her toy.

"Because I love him infinite and because he is dying," Karen finds herself saying her thoughts out loud. "Because he is the little ray of happiness in my life, he is my Matt, the one person I can't live without…"

"He'll be a'right," the girl says and smiles. "He can't die if you love him so much."

"I just love him with all my heart," Kazz whispers, but her mind is somewhere else. The girl spins on her heel and leaves Karen alone. Sobbing, Karen clutches Matt's hand.

To her surprise, he squeezes back.

She looks up. Their eyes meet and she goes weak in the knees – thank God she's sitting in that damned uncomfortable chair – and he's grinning.

"I love you too, Kazz," he says and she leans forward to kiss him. Their lips meet and the sun shines in their hair.

Her white fingers are clutching the plastic cup; the coffee in it has gone cold hours ago. She is just sitting there, staring at the black watery liquid in the orange plastic cup, and she is numb.  
_He's internally bleeding.  
_The words are echoing in her head, slamming at the inside of her skull like a hammer and she's fighting back the tears. She can't let herself cry.  
_He's very seriously damaged.  
_She stands up; her body feels stiff. She hasn't had proper sleep in days. She's been sitting here, right beside him, her hand holding his. She's been begging him to wake up, but he is not waking up, he is not. Ever since he told her he loved, he's been unconscious, the damn machine beeping and counting his breaths. Karen wants to scream. She wants to cry and shout and hit and punch. Her hands are shaking and the cold coffee spills out of the orange cup. _Stupid orange cup_, she thinks and she feels the sudden urge to throw it. Why is she holding it? Why is she here, why is this happening? Why is her Matt lying there, motionless, bleeding on the inside-  
_Dying. He's dying, Mrs. Smith and we're doing our best to save him but our best might just not be enough.  
_That's what the doctors told her. She just refuses to believe it. So she sits by his bed, occasionally dozing off but always there for him in case he wakes up. Her hair is messy and she hasn't showered for days but she just can't leave him. The thought that he might wake up and not see her there terrifies her. And now another fear is creeping into her mind: that he might die and that she might not be there when it happens. So she stays.  
Nurses and doctors come and go, and she sees sympathy written on their exhausted faces; she sees it in their eyes and she can guess what they're thinking.  
A nurse came to her the day before and asked her whether she wanted something.  
"OF COURSE I WANT SOMETHING!" she shouted. "I WANT MY MATTY TO WAKE UP. CAN YOU DO THAT? YOU CAN'T, SO DON'T ASK ME IF YOU CAN'T DO IT."  
The nurse's lips curled into a sad smile and she rested her hand on Karen's shoulder.  
"HE'S NOT GONNA DIE SO DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE HE'S DYING," Karen shouted and burst out in tears.  
Now no one speaks to her; they just glance at her, and there's pain in their eyes because they've seen her kind of grief too many times. She shrieks and she throws the goddamn orange plastic cup at the wall opposite her. The coffee spills on the stone floor and Karen starts sobbing. A black-haired nurse runs in to clear the mess up and Karen apologises through tears. The nurse smiles sadly. They're all treating her as though she were a bomb ready to explode any moment.  
And she just wants her precious Matt to wake up.  
Robot-like, she walks back to the uncomfortable plastic chair and curls up in it. She takes Matt's hand and squeezes it and mentally begs him to open his eyes, to smile, but he just won't. He's pallid, and he's even skinnier now. With every hour passing he's getting worse and she's on edge, she's terrified. She leans over him and cups his cheek. She kisses his pointy chin and buries her fingers in his floppy hair.  
"I love you, please wake up, please," she whispers in his ear. The machine's beeping suddenly changes. Karen panics and she doesn't know what to do. Doctors dressed in white run past her and a nurse wraps her arms around Karen's shoulders.  
She's outside in the hall but she doesn't know how she got there; it's a bit of a blur and her thoughts and fears are suffocating her. She remembers someone telling her to call Matt's parents but she can't.  
She grabs her phone and dials a number she has memorized. She doesn't know who she's calling but if she knows their number by heart they must be close to her.  
"Hello?" a sleepy voice says.  
"Arthur," Karen whispers before she breaks down. Hot tears rum down her cheeks and she's choking and sobbing and shrieking. Arthur is begging her to calm down but she can't.  
"Karen, please tell me what's happened, tell me where you are and I'll come," he assures her and she tells him the name of the hospital.  
She hears him breathe in loudly.  
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"  
"Matt," she hardly recognizes her own voice as she utters his name. 

*  
Arthur comes fifteen minutes later. His hair is ruffled and he has a two-day stubble, and the look of a person who's just woken up. He runs towards Karen and hugs her tightly. She buries his face in his neck and starts to cry. He's always been a good friend, Arthur has. She pulls him closer and finds comfort in his scent and warmth. He rubs her back and rocks her back and forth while she cries her eyes out. She knows no other way to stop the pain.  
They sit in the plastic chairs in the hall and wait for news. Arthur holds her hand while she tells him all she knows. She sheds a few more tears and finally drifts off to sleep. He takes his jacket off and wraps it around her. She's shaking, turning and tossing; at some point she starts crying again. He sits there, caressing her face.  
When she eventually calms down, he rings Matt's family and tells them what's happened. They need to know. He then calls Jenna and Stephen. By that time Karen's woken up. Her eyes are red and swollen and she still feels like crying. A doctor comes to tell them that Matt is still alive.  
_Still._ Karen repeats the word; she feels weak in the knees. Arthur hugs her. A nurse brings her a cup of coffee – the disgusting watery coffee she's been drinking for days – and a few pills. She swallows the pills and drinks the coffee up.  
Waiting.  
It's killing her. Time passes slowly and she's just sitting there, coping with the hell in her head, resting her head on Arthur's shoulder. Matt's mum and sister arrive. They hug Karen; the three of them don't need words: they all know how the others feel so they just hold each other. It's a small comfort but a comfort it is.  
The clock is ticking. The pain in Karen's heart is tearing her apart. She's losing him, he's slipping away from her. She remembers his touch, his voice, his scent. This is too much.  
_Get a grip on yourself, woman_, she tells herself. She straightens her back, wipes away her tears and sighs.  
Hours go by. She wants to see him. She needs to see him. She needs to push his hair off his forehead, to press her lips to his, to caress his chin, to hold his hand. _Please, live._ She is desperate.  
A door opens. The man who approaches them is tall and slender, with an ashen face and grey eyes, and a broken expression written all over his face. Karen grabs Arthur's arm. She feels him stiffen but she doesn't understand what is going on. The doctor's shoulder are hunched. He lets out a heavy sigh. Matt's mum gasps and his sister starts to sob but Karen still can't figure out what's going on.  
"We did what we could," the man says and Matt's mother cries out in pain. Karen looks up at Arthur, confused.  
"Where's Matty? He's alright, isn't he?" she asks, childishly. His mum and sister are holding each other.  
Karen realises she's up on her feet. She turns around. She doesn't want to believe it, it can't be true, it just isn't.  
She runs toward the room where Matt is, madness is running through her veins.  
"I WANNA SEE HIM WHERE IS HE HE ISN'T DEAD HE CAN'T BE HE JUST CAN'T BE LET ME SEE HIM PLEASE LET ME GO LET ME SEE HIM NONONONONON-"  
Arthur grabs her by the waist she's kicking and screaming and her nails are digging into Arthur's flesh. Tears are falling down her face and she is shrieking; all of a sudden she shuts up. She wants to hurt herself, she wants to stop the inner pain, she can't handle this.  
Arthur lets her go and she falls on her knees with a thud. She buries her face in her hands and she repeats "no no no no no no no no no" like a weird kind of a mantra; where her heart was there is an empty hole now.  
Arthur in leaning back against a wall and is crying silently. Jenna and Stephen come in. Stephen sits in a chair and hides his face; Jenna kneels next to Karen and holds her tightly. Karen is numb; she's locked herself somewhere away.  
The last thing she remembers is Jenna's arms holding her tightly and her voice telling her that it'll be alright. What a liar…  
Her world is shattered to pieces. He is gone. There is no point. It's over. All of it. She forces herself to inhale. She forces herself to exhale. They force her to eat.  
Time is ticking away. But there is Matt no more.  
Karen's an empty shell.  
Karen's a wreck.  
Karen Gillan, she thinks. Not Karen Smith.  
Never Karen Smith.  
He's gone and she'll never be Karen Smith.  
There are no more tears. There's only pain, a hungry monster that nibs at her flesh and bones, a monster that devours her from the inside.  
Death is not painful for the dying, she thinks. It is painful for the living.  
And just this once, she wishes she couldn't feel a damn thing.  
She wishes she were dead so she could feel no pain.  
He is gone. She is gone, too. But the only difference is that he is dead once and for all and she is dying every day, again and again.


End file.
